


Call Me Up Again

by taekiab



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU: Canon divergence, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Maybe melodramatic levels of angst, Others Mentioned - Freeform, Rated teen for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taekiab/pseuds/taekiab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>You called me up again just to break me like a promise, casually and cruel in the name of being honest. I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here, 'cause I remember it All Too Well</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or the one where Derek is Derek and Stiles has accurate reactions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Up Again

**Author's Note:**

> FIRST - This is my first Teen Wolf fic so don't be too hard on me. (Also, it's un-beta'd)  
> SECOND - This is based off of the Taylor Swift song "All Too Well," so you should listen to that song: [on YouTube](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRXP0Whtlgg) (isn't YouTube helpful).   
> THIRD - Thanks for reading!

“So why are you calling me?” Stiles asked, his voice broken, eyes darting around the windowsill he was using to prop himself up. Derek was silent on the other line, his shallow breaths the only sign that he still held the phone in his hand.

“I just,” he said carefully. “I just, wanted you to know what was --” he started before being cut off. 

“Okay Derek,” he said, trying futilely to keep the the tears from falling. “Now I know.” The silence descended again, neither of them able to hang up the phone. “I miss you so much,” Stiles started barely above a whisper. “This is killing me, isn’t it killing you?” he asked. 

“No,” Derek lied, flatly, his voice clear, a line he’d perfected saying to himself, could almost believe. 

“No?” Stiles repeated incredulously, his breath coming out in a sigh. He leaned against the wall, letting himself slide down to the floor, clutching the phone to his ear. “No,” he exhaled again before dropping the phone, pulling his arms around his legs as the tears finally fell. He sat there, in the corner of his room, hands running through his hair as the tears continued to fall. His body ached with exhaustion. He’d spent the last week bone tired and unable to sleep. He refused to close his eyes voluntarily. Not due to memories of the attack, no, he welcomed the nightmares. He couldn’t take the moments when he closed his eyes and his brain flooded him with the happy memories, the surprises and touch, everything that Derek had been, still was, everything that they could’ve had. He remembered it all too well.  
 _  
“You didn’t have to come all the way up to get me,” Stiles says tossing his bag in the back of Derek’s Camero._

_“How were you going to get home?” Derek asked pointedly._

_“I would’ve figured something out,” Stiles says as they both stepped in to the car._

_“Now you don’t have to,” Derek said nonchalantly setting out on the road. They drove most of the way in silence, everything between them still so new. After all of the fighting, and evil, and destruction, Derek was still unsure of how to fight for what he wanted, or as Stiles put it, use his words. The road seemed to go on for days, the winding calm of an old high-way, Stiles taking furtive glances over at the werewolf, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. After a few hours, they finally made it back to Beacon Hills._

_“Hey...where...dude,” Stiles said flailing and turning his head. Derek looked over at the passenger seat, his entire focus on Stiles the road melting into a distant consideration. “You missed the turn for my street,” Stiles urged._

_“I want to show you something,” he offered, his eyes languishing over the curious expression on Stiles’s face._

_“Oooh what?” Stiles asked, his expression quickly changing as they blew through a red light. “DEREK!” he shouted. “Dude, pull over, I’m driving. Werewolf senses aside, you’re clearly distracted by my awesome, and I’m the only one who can be trusted not to get us killed.”_

_“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek said smiling teasingly as he turned to face the road again. “Close your eyes,” he added well before they turned into the woods. When Stiles stared at him quizzically, refusing to shut his eyes, he reached over placing his right hand over them._

_“Stop, stop,” Stiles says laughing, fighting to pull Derek’s hands away. “See, look closed. You should have both hands on the steering wheel,” he says a wide grin playing on his face. They finally pull up to the completely rebuilt Hale house, standing tall and expansive._

_“Keep them closed,” Derek said, getting out of the car to go open Stiles’s door._

_“Oh my God it’s freezing, when did Beacon Hills get winter? Where have you taken me?” Stiles asked pawing his way to the back of the car blindly._

_“Here, I’ll --,” Derek said starting to open the trunk before having his hand slapped away by Stiles._

_“I got this, I’m like Daredevil, watch me go,” Stiles said clicking the button on the trunk of the car with a wide gesticulation, and fishing through his bag for something. He pulled out a ratty striped woolen scarf to wrap around his neck._

_“You really don’t need that,” Derek said._

_“I like to be prepared, no idea where this latest jaunt will take us,” he said heading towards the front of the car. “So, where am I going?” he asked continuing to walk aimlessly. Derek hurried to where he was and grabbed his shoulders and Stiles wrapped his arm around his waist leaning against him. “This is okay, too, god you’re like a sauna. How did I never notice this before? Are you cold at all?” Stiles could feel Derek’s shoulders slump with the sigh, could sense his eyes rolling._

_“Okay watch the--,” Derek started as Stiles slammed his shin into the stairs._

_“Ow, Fuck, Derek,” he said squeezing his eyes tighter, refusing to open them._

_“Sorry, come on, step, yeah another one. Okay, I’m opening the door” Derek said reaching one arm around Stiles’s waist and opening the door with the other hand. As soon as they crossed the threshold Stiles was hit with the warmth of the room, he squeezed closer to Derek, gripping his t-shirt with his fist._

_“Derek,” he gasped, immediately knowing where he was. Four years of running around with werewolves was bound to heighten your senses in some way, yet he still didn’t believe it. He started to open his eyes, but Derek’s hand covered them lightning fast._

_“Stop, wait, Laura wants to be here,” he said. “She’s on her way back in.”_

_“It’s not even a surprise anymore, just let me see it Derek,” Stiles urged, getting antsy. “Oh my God, when, how, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked turning to bury his head in Derek’s shoulder. Derek wrapped his arms around the other man, rubbing his thumbs against the small of Stiles’s back._

_“At first, I wasn’t really sure we were going to go through with it,” Derek started. “And then, I kind of wanted it to be a surprise. It was your idea after all.” Stiles tipped his head up to capture Derek’s lips in a kiss, skillfully making it to his target blindly. They broke apart when they heard the door wretched open and Laura enter the house._

_“Okay, okay, show him!” she said smiling widely. Stiles opened his eyes to take in the sight of the restored Hale house, all warm tones and soft light. He had only ever seen the hollowed out remains of the burned down building, the decrepit hole that Laura had hid out in for weeks while Peter had torn through Beacon Hills, yet now this place with its mahogany stairs and rich curtains felt like home, somehow._

_"Dude!" Stiles said excitedly shoving Derek in the shoulder to which Derek glared at him... softly. "It looks so good, perfect. Oh God look at that TV. I'm never leaving," he finished oblivious to the look Laura was giving Derek behind him. He started wandering by himself around the house and up the stairs, pulling his scarf off at the top and leaving it on the bannister. Laura walked towards the kitchen removing her jacket and putting down her bag._

_"Go show him the library," she said nudging Derek towards the stairs. "Dinner in 30, okay?" Derek nodded as he turned to the stairs._

_"Stiles," he shouted up the stairs, causing Stiles to come bounding down the stairs a huge smile playing on his face. "We put all of the mythology books in one place for you."_

_"Like a library?" Stiles asked, his eyes growing wide in excitement._

_"No, like a room with books," Derek said flatly, remembering back to the week when Stiles referred to him as the beast and begged for a library (somehow ignoring the fact that that made him Belle) after Allison had forced them all to watch the remastered Beauty and the Beast. When they reached the small room off in the corner of the house, Stiles stared up at the shelves and shelves of books._

_"Uh, wha--," Stiles attempted to ask._

_"Our parents kept some of the more interesting ones in a storage container outside of town. We found the key in the rubble," Derek explained. Stiles slid his hand over the leather bound volumes, reading off a few of the titles before becoming distracted by the collection of family photos Laura had placed on the far wall._

_“Are you wearing glasses in that?” Stiles asked moving his face in closer to one of the pictures._

_“No,” Derek said briskly, attempting to distract Stiles with another photo._

_“YES,” Laura shouted from the kitchen._

_“Do werewolves even need glasses?” Stiles asked smiling. Derek made a noncommittal noise and moved over to the desk that they’d put in, and the shelves of books on the opposite side of the room. He was pretending to be highly interested in one particular volume when Laura came into the study, shoving a wooden spoon at him._

_“Go stir something, D, I want Stiles time,” she said with a wicked smile playing on her lips. Derek rolled his eyes, but left the two of them, something about watching his sister dote on Stiles made him feel more at home than any amount of paint or pictures could._

_“Werewolves do not need glasses,” she says her eyes dancing in delight as she searched for something at the bottom of the book shelf. It was a small metal box filled with pictures and what looked to be the important documents for their family._

_“LAURA,” Derek shouted from the kitchen. “Please stop,” he added at a more sensible volume that meant only Laura could hear his plea._

_“KEEP STIRRING,” She shouted back. Stiles knew they were screaming more for his benefit (okay and to piss each other off) than anything, but he was thankful to be included in their bickering and their family anyway. Laura opened the box and pulled out a couple of pictures, Derek looked to be about ten or eleven and was wearing a different pair of glasses in each of them. Stiles started to chuckle._

_“Oh my God look at those horned rims,” Stiles said between laughs._

_“He was, like, obsessed with wearing them for a year, it was completely ridiculous. Most kids would kill for perfect vision and not to have to wear glasses, but Derek thought he looked cool and grown-up,” she explained. There were at least a dozen small photos and polaroids in the box and they were lost in flipping through the rest of them, a few pictures of the kids playing in the forest around the house, the adults laughing and smiling, and one of a woman with dark hair tickling a young Derek. Stiles gasped at the sight of the picture, his hand moving instantly to cover the sound._

_“Is this your mom?” Stiles asked holding the picture._

_“Yeah,” Laura said with a sad smile._

_“She’s beautiful,” Stiles said, picking up the picture._

_“Yeah, she was,” Derek said entering the room, and wrapping his arms around Stiles’s waist._

_“I see where you got it from Laura,” Stiles said smiling, still staring at the picture. He placed it gently back in the box, turning around in Derek’s arms. “But this one, clearly missed all the good genes.”_

_“Ouch,” Derek said feigning insult and pulling away._

_“Oh come on, you know you’re hot enough to fry an egg Sourwolf,” Stiles said smiling as they all headed into the kitchen to finish the meal and grab plates._

Stiles shook himself from the memory and took a few deep breaths to calm down before picking the phone back up.

“I know you’re still there, Derek,” he said without even looking at it. 

“Stiles,” he whispered. Stiles hated how Derek was always able to put so much meaning behind something so simple, he’d heard his own name a million times, but never the way it rolled off of Derek’s lips, every time it said and held something different.

“Look, I don’t understand this,” he said flatly. “I think you’re an idiot and a coward and that we could take on the world, Derek. That I’m always in danger, always, and that stupid pack doesn’t scare me and if Laura, if Laura wants you to be the one to take down their alpha, we could deal with that. I know what it means. I just don’t -- fuck Derek, I think that my --,” he paused taking another breath. “That my love for you is limitless. We could do it. We’d be fine, I’d be fine. But I can’t do this, if you’re not in it, I can’t keep doing this and you can’t keep calling me or worrying or asking Scott how I am or if Laura’s talked to me. If we can’t be together, then we can’t be together and I’m tired of loving you this much,” he continues, the words picking up speed as he rushes to get them out. “So just, I don’t know, forget my number or something. I’m not answering anymore, enjoy being a martyr for the rest of your life, I hope that goes well for you,” Stiles finishes, hanging up the phone immediately and replacing Derek’s name with “DO NOT ANSWER ON PAIN OF DEATH” in his contacts. He tossed the phone down and crawled into bed, refusing to cry, but not exactly sure what else to do.

Derek stared down at the phone in his hand, refusing to look at Laura who he was sure was making some sort of annoyed and exaggerated face at him from across the room. He put the phone down on the table and walked slowly up the stairs, and across his bedroom to lean against his dresser, pulling out the top drawer and fishing out the ratty scarf Stiles had left there many months before. He didn’t need to put the scarf to his face to smell Stiles on it. In fact, he could still smell Stiles around most of his room, his scent still clung to the pillow, the leather jacket he’d let Stiles “steal” for a month during his freshman year in college. 

However, the scarf was the last thing there that had belonged to Stiles, that carried his scent primarily, that had been wrapped in or near other things that Stiles owned. It carried the life, not just the person, so whenever Derek wanted to feel close to Stiles he would hold on to the scarf. Suddenly he realized that this was all he was ever going to have. This was the only piece of Stiles that Derek would get for the rest of his life. The realization hit him like a freight train. He dropped the scarf back in the drawer and raced down the stairs, ripping his phone off the table as he blew through the door.


End file.
